Coffin Corner
by Romantique The Original
Summary: A FNLs Halloween Tale. Takes place during Season 4 after episode 3.


Title: Coffin Corner (1/1)

Author: Romantique

Email:

Classification: Eric/Tami Mystery/Drama

Rating: T for some language

Summary: A FNLs Halloween Tale.

Disclaimer: Takes place after Season 4, episode 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

**coffin corner:**

either corner of the football field located between the end zone and the five-yard line at each end of the field.

_At the Taylor home_

_Sunday_

_October 31, 2010_

Popping another fun size_ Milky Way_ into his mouth, soon chased by a _Reese's Peanut Butter Cup_, Coach Eric Taylor turned to his wife, Tami, and said, "I'm not so sure it's a good idea for us to be passin' out candy this year."

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Tami was engrossed in her task of assembling bags of treats with their youngest daughter, Gracie, who was dressed in her sparkly, fairy princess costume.

"Why?" she looked up at her husband and teased, "Do you plan to eat it all?"

Tami loved Eric. She loved teasing him. He was nothing but a big kid on _All Hallow's Eve_.

"Hmmmph." Eric flashed his wife a playful little smirk. "You're funny," he countered and proceeded to free a _Tootsie Roll_ from its wrapper and guide it into his mouth. With his teeth soon stuck in the chewy chocolate, he continued, "After what you and I have been through this year with the Luke Cafferty situation, we're liable to have our house egged or even worse by the Panthers."

"Well, I thought about _not_ passing out candy, Hon. And I also thought about us leaving town and not being home tonight. Julie had the right idea by staying the night at Devin's," she said as she finished tying off the last bag of candy with a strand of orange ribbon and placing it in a large, festive black and orange bowl in the middle of the coffee table. "But then ... I thought, I like our house too much to find out what might happen to it if we were _not_ at home," her voice lilted with a touch of sarcasm.

"Yeah, I know," Eric nodded in resignation, moving onto a miniature bag of _Peanut M&Ms_.

"Let's face it," she lamented with sincerity. "There's nothing we can do but just get through this Halloween night. All I can say is, thank goodness it's a school night."

"I warned the Lions that if I see any pranks around here with their name on them, they'll regret the day they were born," the coach in him nodded defiantly. Then, he opened a _Twix_ bar and made his way to the kitchen to discard his growing collection of candy wrappers into the trash can.

Standing her long body upright from the living room floor, Tami raised an eyebrow, as she joined Eric in the kitchen. "I just hope your players don't take your threat as a challenge. Remember that year when Smash and Tim Riggins came over here and TP'd all our trees after one of your threats to the team?"

"That wasn't a threat, Babe. It was a promise," he enlightened her, his mouth still full of chocolate. "Smash and Riggins did the team laundry for a solid month because of that one."

Suddenly, the look on his face noticeably changed.

"Wha? ... Eric ...What's wrong?" she asked, cupping her hand to his face and wiping chocolate from the corner of his mouth with her thumb. Her playful mood just as suddenly changed to one of concern.

"Ohhhhhh," he moaned rubbing his midsection, wincing as he swallowed down the last of the _Twix_ remaining in his mouth. "I think I ate too much candy."

"You always do." Tami couldn't help but smile a little and gave her husband a gentle peck on the lips.

He did not seem to be running a fever.

"How could you eat that much chocolate after drinking a beer?" she asked. "That's a bad combination, Hon."

She turned and reached up into one of the cabinets behind her and handed him a bottle of _Tums_ antacid.

"Bless you," Eric let out a grateful sigh. He popped opened the top of large plastic bottle and shook out 4 of the large colored wafers into his hand and began to slowly chew the large, chalky, fruity-flavored tablets one by one.

Still standing in the kitchen, Tami rubbed small, comforting circles on Eric's upper back with her open hand. Just then, the doorbell rang.

"Twick or Tweet!" yelled Gracie, jumping up and down in excitement.

Tami had to abruptly stop her impromptu back rub and gave her husband's back a final pat. "Gracie Belle. Would you like to help me pass out the candy?" Tami asked her little one as she headed into the living room to retrieve the bowl full of treats.

In the meantime, Eric slowly made his way to his recliner, still chewing on the _Tums_.

"Yea ... yea ... yea!" Grace giggled. Bouncing up and down, she hadn't even had any candy. She followed her Momma to the door and, after being greeted by an alien, a frog, and a ghost, Gracie slowly and methodically placed one bag of candy into each of their pillow case sacks.

As Tami hoped, the stream of Trick or Treaters dwindled to none by 10 p.m. Little Gracie was so tired from all the excitement of the day that she went to bed with no fuss, and Eric and Tami were able to turn in at a reasonable hour.

Although the antacid kept Eric's stomach ache down to a dull roar, he spent much of the night tossing and turning in bed. A little past 3 o'clock a.m., he awoke with a start from his fitful sleep to the sound of something crashing and hushed voices right outside their bedroom window.

"Hon?" Tami whispered. "Did you hear that?"

"You stay here," he whispered back and stood upright, quietly making his way out of the bedroom in the dark.

"Be careful," Tami shouted in a whisper, springing up to a sitting position in the middle of their bed.

Clad only in his t-shirt and boxers, a barefoot Eric hurried to the front of the house, turned on the outside lights, and ran out the front door into the chilly autumn air while Tami peered through the blinds of their bedroom window.

In the darkness, Eric was met with a wall of a horrid odor, as he surveyed the yard. He paid special attention to the bedroom window and the side of the house.

Suddenly, the sound of squealing tires in the street in front of the house was matched by the smell of burning rubber. All he could see was a newer model, light colored pickup truck.

A few minutes later, Eric stepped back into the house, shivering from the night's chill.

"Damn it," he swore, shaking his head in disgust. His adrenaline was pumping, and he became quite animated and began telling Tami what he just witnessed, using his hands for emphasis. "There is rotten garbage strewn all across our yard and dumped on top of our cars. It smells like the damn landfill out there. I'm glad Julie isn't here to see this."

Very calmly, Tami reported, "I recognized that truck, Hon. That was J.D. McCoy and his crew." She then grabbed a knit throw that was draped over the arm of the sofa and handed it to her husband.

Nodding in appreciation, he quickly wrapped himself in its warmth and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Uh, huh," she nodded. "I got the license plate number," she said, and showed him the piece of paper where she had written it down. Then, she turned and watched Eric pick up the phone. "What are you doing?"

Without missing a beat, he said, "I'm callin' the Sheriff."

This time, it was Tami who winced, as she would have to be the one to deal with the repercussions Eric's phone call would make with the Panthers at her school.

_The next day_

First thing the next morning, Principal Tami Taylor asked her secretary to call Panther Head Coach Wade Aikman to her office.

It had already been a rough start of an already long day. Tami and Eric had to clean up their cars in the chilly wee hours. Eric decided to stay home and clean up the mess that appeared to be even worse in the light of day. There was smashed pumpkins, garbage, broken glass, and paper bags filled with dog mess. The smell was awful. The house, entryway, and driveway would need to be power washed and the yard raked. He would need to some help to clean up this mess and knew of some players who owed him a favor.

After a few moments, Wade Aikman tapped on the outside of Tami's office.

"You wanted to see me?" Coach Aikman asked.

"Um, yeah. Come on in and have a seat," she directed him to take a chair in front of her desk where she was seated.

After he took his seat, she began, "I wanted to make you aware that the Sheriff's Department was at our home in the early hours of the morning taking a report and photos of damage done to our home and cars." Looking him straight in the eye, she continued, "Wade, J.D. McCoy's truck was seen peeling away from the scene. The Sheriff's office has that information, including his license plate number."

"Well, Tami, I'm sure it was just a Halloween prank," the Panther coach reacted. "You know we have a big game against Arnett Mead this Friday."

"It wasn't just a Halloween prank," she explained, very matter-of-factly. "There was damage done to our cars, our lawn, and the house."

Wade began to nervously pass his blue Panther's cap back and forth from hand to hand. He needed his quarterback for Friday's game, and he knew what was coming next. So, he decided to eat some crow and make a pre-emptive strike. "Look, I'm sorry if J.D. was involved in damaging your property. That's not right. You know Joe has been having some trouble with him this semester ... with his mother leaving and all. What if I talk to Joe? I'm certain he'll take care of any damage to your house and cars, Tami. And if it's any conciliation, I'm sorry you and Eric are the brunt of this town's obsession with Panther football in the midst of the re-districting. You two don't deserve it. No one does."

"I appreciate that, Wade," Tami nodded with a very straight face. "But we can't just let J.D. off the hook, again, scoff free. That boy has had too much of that, and he can't keep going through life as privileged with no consequences. In addition, by law, I cannot treat him any differently than I would treat any other student in these circumstances."

Wade knew she had him over a barrel. "I'm not asking you to treat him any different. I agree. He should be punished." Wade paused. "Do you know if he was alone?"

"I don't know," Tami cocked her head, "but by the scope of the damage, it would have been impossible for him to do that much damage all by himself."

"I've worked with J.D. for several years. Let me see if I can get him to cough up some names. The others will never know that they weren't seen. I'll even volunteer to run the extra study hall for their detention for as long as you say." He looked at her with hope in his eyes. He could not afford to be without his quarterback Friday night.

She just looked at him. "My husband also wants the persons involved to take responsibility for the damage they caused."

"Tami, I promise that you and Eric will not have any more trouble from my players ... unless it is on the field where it belongs. Deal?" he asked, holding out his hand to her for a shake.

Perhaps she could sell this deal to herself, but would she be able to sell it to Eric? After a moment of thought, she said, "Deal." They shook hands. "I want them in detention for 3 weeks starting today. Give the list the offenders to Vice Principal Trucks by the end of 4th period. I'll let Paul Dunley know that I am removing myself from this matter as I am compromised. Vice Principal Trucks can handle it from here."

"You got it, Boss," Wade nodded, satisfied with his negotiation. "Again, I'm truly sorry about all this," he added and stood to leave the room.

_Later that afternoon ..._

After school, Luke Cafferty made his way over to Coach Taylor's house, along with Vince Howard and Dallas Tinker. They answered Eric's call for help. With a wheelbarrow, they took turns shoveling the garbage into the wheelbarrow and dumping it into the back of Luke's truck. Luke and Tinker had already taken one truck load to the dump and were ready to make another run. After they took off, Eric and Vince pulled out the garden hose and began to wet down his rig.

"Damn, Coach," Vince said, gently washing the hood with a soft brush. "Your paint is scratched all to hell." He very carefully tried to move the pieces of broken glass off with his fingers so as not to further damaging the car.

"Yeah," Eric nodded. "Be careful not to cut yourself there."

"I will," Vince reassured him. "Do you know who did this?"

"Naw," Eric decided not to disclose any information. He feared his Lions might retaliate. "As a team leader, if you hear anything at school or on the street about this, I want you to promise to come to me and not take matters into your own hands." He looked his quarterback straight in the eye. "This is a matter for the Sheriff's Department. I trust they'll take care of it."

"I promise, Coach," Vince nodded.

About that time, a brand new Hummer drove up to the front of the house, and Joe McCoy emerged from the vehicle. Eric walked down the driveway to meet him in the street. He did not want this man setting foot on his property.

"What brings you here?" Eric said looking up at him from under the bill of his Lions cap, tightening his jaw.

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Joe stopped about 4 feet in front of Eric in the street near the curb.

"I understand you and your wife accused my son of vandalizing your house," Joe stated. "I want _you_ to know that J.D. unequivocally denies having anything to do with it. And I want you to know that he was home, with me, after 7 o'clock last night."

Eric bristled at Joe's posturing and stiffened his stance. "Well, Joe, that would be impossible because his truck was seen here last night a little after 3 this mornin'."

From the driveway, Vince carefully watched the two men in the street. Their body language clearly demonstrated that this was not a friendly conversation.

Joe gave Eric a smirk. "That _would_ be impossible because J.D. and his truck were home with me."

"This is outta my hands," Eric glared at Joe. "You have anything to say about this, you can talk to the Sheriff's Department." And he turned to walk away.

"Everyone knows you and your wife have it out for my son," Joe raised his voice. "You would do anything to get him kicked off the team!"

Eric continued walking back towards his rig and returned to cleaning his SUV, ignoring the rant of the wealthiest man in town.

Vince stopped washing the car and stood tall, glaring at the man in the street. Upon noticing for the first time that Vince was there, Joe stopped ranting, got back in his car, and left.

_Later that evening ..._

"I can't believe that Joe McCoy would lie about this," Tami huffed, as she finished bringing the last side dishes to the dinner table.

"Yes, you can believe it," Eric nodded. "This is what he does."

Julie took a seat at the table. "I can't believe the damage to the cars. Mom, your windshield is a mess."

"I know," she sighed. "I have an appointment in the morning to have it replaced." She then took a seat and reached for the salad bowl. "Wade Aikman sat right in front of my face and worked out a deal with me. He lied, too!"

"You don't know that, Babe," Eric said, cutting into his steak. "Wade can't control anything Joe does or doesn't do. He was in no position to make a deal on Joe's behalf. I doubt he knew how much hatred Joe has for us, until now. That man's hate runs deep."

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Tami responded, as she poured dressing over her salad. "I need to call Paul in the morning to give him an update."

"Do you trust Paul Dunley?" Eric asked.

Looking at both Eric and Julie, who was taking an intense interest in the conversation, she answered, "Yeah. I do trust Paul. I have to trust him."

"Alright," Eric responded as if he was giving up, trying to convince himself to trust in his wife's judgment. "You do have good instincts about people."

"Well, I didn't about Wade," she shook her head.

Eric cut another piece of his steak. "That's only because I've seen him interact with Joe, on the field, and you haven't. Joe treats him like some kind of a lackey. "Wade Aikman is a _'Head Coach' _my ass, as far as Joe McCoy is concerned." Eric spoke from experience; he'd been there.

"Dad," Julie rolled her eyes. "Not in front of the little one," she gently chastised her father for his off-color language, referring to her little sister who was also seated at the table.

"Sorry," Eric apologized, as he chewed another bite of steak. "You know what I mean," he looked at Tami. "Are you gonna be alright over there at the school, tomorrow?"

"Well, yeah," she said, cutting into her steak. "I'm going to have to be."

Julie intently watched both her parents, as she broke apart of piece of French bread. Knowing all the players involved, she did not envy her mother's position at Dillon High School.

Later that night after dinner, the Taylors turned into bed early, as Tami and Eric did not sleep much the night before. Tami lay sleeping, nestled in the crook of her husband's arm. Suddenly, a noise outside woke Tami.

"Eric. Eric, Hon, wake up." She sat straight up in bed. "I hear something outside," she said in a startled, low voice. Then, she shook her husband trying desperately to wake him.

"Huh?" he uttered, disoriented from sleeping so soundly.

"There's someone outside the window!" Tami whispered, trying to remain calm.

As they both turned toward the window, the shadowy silhouette of someone appeared through the curtains. Eric bolted up out of the bed.

"Call 911," he whispered. Grabbing a baseball bat he kept behind their door, he ran towards the living room.

Once again clad in only his t-shirt and boxers, Eric quietly opened the front door and allowed his eyes to adjust to the cool darkness. He was able to make out a lone figure crouched down in the bushes, near the foundation of the house by the bedroom window. And then it hit him: the unmistakable fumes of gasoline.

"Hey!" Eric yelled. His adrenaline was pumping, as his right hand gripped tightly around the baseball bat.

Startled at being discovered, a young man turned and looked straight at Eric, the whites of his eyes illuminated by the street light. It was J.D. McCoy holding onto a gas can. He had been pouring its contents around the perimeter of the house.

In a split second, all of the protective instincts of a husband and a father kicked into high gear, and Eric leapt forward, tackling the young man. He knocked the gas can out of J.D.'s hand and the young man off balance. The contents of the can flowed down the grass like a river. Among the strong fumes, the two struggled on the ground for quite some time until Eric was able to gain leverage over him and pin him to the ground.

A moment later, out of breath, Julie ran up behind her father holding a lit flashlight. "Dad, the Sheriff Department is on the way."

"Get back, Julie," Eric yelled and then coughing, finding it difficult to breathe. "There's gasoline spilled here! We need the Fire Department! Please"

Immediately, she did as she was told and ran to find her mother.

Struggling beneath Eric, J.D. sneered, "Get off of me, you son of a bitch!" And then, he also began to cought.

"You'd do best to keep your damn mouth shut," Eric hissed through clenched teeth. It took every bit of self control he could muster not to pummel him with the baseball bat after watching J.D. put his family in danger. Despite the racing adrenaline, he had to keep it together and concentrate on the task at hand ... holding J.D. until the Sherriff Department arrived.

Continuing all the while in a struggle to get away, J.D. bit Eric on the hand, but the pain only made Eric even angrier.

"I swear. I will _hurt_ you, if you don't knock it off!" he yelled, pushing J.D.'s head into the ground with his hand and readjusting his position until his knee was in the small of J.D.'s back.

The heavy fumes from the gasoline were making Eric light headed. It took every bit of strength and patience he had to hold this kid. He couldn't help but notice J.D. had grown in both size and strength since last season. Given that and the adrenaline pumping through J.D.'s veins made him a formidable match to the well-conditioned coach. Finally ... in less than 5 minutes, help arrived, but it seemed like an eternity.

Two officers raced up the lawn, shining their high beam flashlights at the two figures on the lawn until they reached Eric. The first officer grabbed J.D. by the shoulders on the ground. "We'll take it from here, Coach," he commanded.

Eric released his grip, as instructed, and fell back on his heels. Breathing heavily and then choking, in slow motion, he watched the two men take control of J.D. Tami hurried to join her husband, as he stood up and backed away to give the officers room to work. They watched the officers handcuff J.D., and one of the officers lead him and Tami behind one of their squad car. There, Eric silently held out an open arm for his wife who had a half-asleep Gracie on her hip. They held onto one another. The fumes from the gasoline then hit Tami hard, and she also began to choke.

At that very moment, the Fire Department arrived and ordered the Taylors to move farther away from the house, as firemen immediately went to work securing the flammable, toxic spill with foam.

Once across the street, they were able to breathe easier. One of the firemen brought Eric a blanket from the truck. Standing barefoot out in the autumn night in nothing but his underwear, he hadn't yet noticed how chilled he was until Tami helped him wrap the blanket around his shoulders. Then, his teeth began to chatter.

The Fire Department ordered the neighbors on either side of the Taylor home to also evacuate their homes. All the while, a small crowd began to gather across the street, and Eric grabbed hold of Julie and shepherded his family further away from their house and towards the group of people. Their neighbors from across the street invited the Taylors and the two other families inside their homes and out of the night chill, along with an officer who needed to ask Tami and Eric some questions for his report. It would be yet another long night, sleepless night for Mr. and Mrs. Coach.

_The following day ..._

Despite the offer of hospitality from their neighbors, later in the wee hours, the Sheriff Department helped the Taylors and the other families check into a nearby motel. The Taylor home was now a crime scene and in need of toxic clean-up. Exhausted, Eric woke at 6 a.m. and called into the schools to report Tami, Julie, and himself absent. Then, he promptly went back to sleep. With the _'Do Not Disturb'_ sign placed on the door knob, they all slept until Gracie woke up at 11 a.m.

Later that afternoon, Buddy arrived with some Lions sweats and a pizza and sodas. After they all ate and changed into the clothes, Buddy offered Eric a ride to their home in order to retrieve some clothes, shoes, ID, and some other essentials. Tami and Julie made Eric a list of things they had to have.

"You'll be happy to know that ol' Joe McCoy is not going to be able to buy his boy out of this one," Buddy said to Eric, who sat barefoot from the night before in the passenger seat of his rig, on their way to the Taylor home.

"I would certainly hope not," Eric said flatly, his voice was raspy from inhaling the gas fumes. He was still silently angry over the thought of what almost happened. "I cannot believe it got to this point. And all because J.D. got busted carryin' out a Halloween prank that went way too far?"

"Joe McCoy is crazy. How many times have I said that?" Buddy insisted. "Haven't I been maintaining that fact for a long time now?"

"You have," Eric nodded, staring vacantly ahead.

"My God, Eric. You all could have been hurt or even worse, killed last night," Buddy exclaimed.

"Yeah," he croaked. Crossing his arms in front of him, Eric flatly said, "I know." After a moment of silence, he broke it. "Don't you think this went beyond what is decent and acceptable ... even for this football crazy town?" Looking over at Buddy, Eric was not amused.

Catching his friend's drift, Buddy nodded. "Yeah, even I will admit that this football mania went way too far this time."

The two men rode the remainder of the drive in a heavy silence.

"_It's only football,"_ Eric thought to himself. And yet, basic human boundaries had been threatened: Eric's home, his livelihood, and the very lives of his family. Coaching high school football in the small, football-fanatic town of Dillon, Texas would never, ever be the same for Eric Taylor.

~fin~


End file.
